Theodore Roosevelt never said it, and the research says comparison was never the problem. The belief that shows up right after it is. What kindergarteners at show-and-tell know that adults forget, and the one word that changes what the comparison means.

"Tell me what to do." "Why are you telling me what to do?" Why a good life can quietly go gray, why the people who love us are the last ones we'll take advice from, and the question running in the background of your mind that decides what you notice all day.

A neighbor kid knocked on our door, and my first feeling was interrupted. That's the problem. How grocery delivery, self-checkout and a mailbox at the clubhouse quietly removed the accidental conversations where most luck used to happen, and how to get a few of them back this week.

We handed out nearly forty invitations to a salon, and people asked if they were getting their nails done. What a salon actually is, why Gertrude Stein's Saturday nights still matter, and the one question that replaces "what do you do."

There's a part of your brain — about the size of your little finger — that decides what you notice, what you miss, and what you attract. And you've been programming it your whole life. The question is: what have you been telling it to look for?